‘Wit aboot us two?’
‘Well, we’re fuckin twenty-wan, sittin drinkin wine doon the woods like a couple ae fuckin teenagers.’
‘So fuck, yir allowed wance in a while! Well, wit’s the fuckin masterplan then? Azzy boy’s always git a wee fuckin get oot ae jail plan!’
‘Mate, Monica’s asked me tae go wae hur.’
‘Go where but?’
‘Paris.’
‘Ohhhh, oui! Fuckin Par-i! Aye, you’ll fit right in there wae yir Lanarkshire accent n yir fuckin tracksuit. Come back wearin a stripy jumper n fuckin garlic roon yir neck n A’ll call yi fuckin Johnny Onion Ring, ya cunt!’
A’m pishin maself laughin at ma eld mate.
‘Yi should go, man. Yi fuckin love that lassie tae bits. Don’t let hur fuckin disappear over there without yi or that’s yooz fucked.’
‘A don’t want tae hold hur back, mate.’
‘Aye right, fuckin Mother Teresa. You’re sittin worryin aboot that n she’s oot fuckin wae big Bobo Baldé eatin frogs’ legs n drinkin chardonnay. Wined, dined n 69-d.’
‘Fuck up, ya fuckin tattie-muncher.’
‘Well don’t ponder it too fuckin long. If she didnae want yi tae go, she wouldnae huv asked yi. Git yirsel a fuckin rucksack, git it packed n git yir fuckin arse on a plane. Yi used tae talk aboot leavin fur good – fuckin anywhere is better than here. You’ve got a chance tae go, take it. Or big fuckin Bobo wull!’
A punch the cunt a deedy in the arum. ‘Wit aboot you, wee-sacks?’ A ask.
‘A’ve been thinkin aboot Oz, man.’
‘Well sayin you’ve been dodgin work, watchin Home and Away, ya cunt.’
‘Why no fuck? Danny Bhoy isnae dain much hangin aboot here maself.’
‘Think you’ll dae it?’
‘Maybe, mate. Need a few grand away before yi kin start dreamin aboot aw that.’
‘Fuck you’ve got it sorted noo, cuz.’
‘No really, mate. Some days A feel fuckin mental n depressed oot ma heed. Other days A feel brand new n ready tae move on away fae here n sort maself oot. Nae cunt thought you wid be back. Where yi gonnae go, Azzy?’
‘Dunno, mate,’ A answer honestly.
‘Yir a hard wan tae read, eld son. Bags ae potential but yi need that killer instinct, man, tae just make yir fuckin mind up n go! Yi wur always bad at that. Fulla ideas n nae idea how tae git there. The devil’s in the detail, son, but yi need tae take a leap ae faith sometimes. Don’t sit n analyse it, like yi always dae, ya cunt! Step intae the unknown!’
‘Aye, maybe yir right.’ Yir best mate knows yi best, their advice oft the best anaw.
‘Def no gawn tae Paris wae yir burd?’
‘Nuhin’s definite, Danny.’
‘Well, don’t think too long. Just pick suhin random n go. Doesnae need tae be an amazin plan wae a life-long career. Just huv a look n see where yi want tae stay fur a bit, look fur a job n a gaff. Then meet cunts n socialise.’
‘Aye that’s the hard bit.’
‘Wit aboot the college? Yi wur studyin wur yi no?’
‘Aye mate. A could go tae uni eventually.’
‘Well yi need tae start lookin at courses, don’t yi! They’re no gonnae come n chap the door, son. Get it sorted, cunto.’
‘Could be a plan, sir.’
‘Get a degree fuck n that’s yir golden ticket oot ae here. Nane ae us could study fuck … you’re Ricky, A’m fuckin Doughboy. Thug 4 life, eld Danny Ess.’
A breathe in the whole woods n the scent ae release n rebirth. We grew up in here, runnin aboot playin as wee guys. It felt massive then, like an unknown forest n yi hudnae explored tae the furthest reaches ae its boundaries yit. The dark mansion lay undiscovered in wait fur us till years later, protected by ghost stories ae the Grey Lady n rumours ae a rovin pack ae guard dugs. Yi wid run intae a dark bit n no recognise the trees n the settin dark wid look more menacin than usual n you’d git scared but yi ran back tae the trees yi knew n they guided yi home in the darkness like eld friends. The limit ae our imagination then wis greater than noo. We never knew aboot deprivation or sufferin. We only learned aboot aw that later. A need tae recapture that feelin ae being lost n exploring. Ma dreams huv vanished through the years ae aw this. The smell ae the soil n trees takes me back tae being that wee boy n fur a moment A’m healed n runnin wae ma pals fae the dark. A think noo A wid be grateful fur any measure ae peace away fae here. Suhin simple wid suffice, ma dreams irnae unreasonable. That wee boy that ran among the trees then should huv just kept runnin.
Changes
The last two nights A stayed wae Monica, A woke up momentarily forgettin that it wis almost over. Hur room hud slowly packed itself intae suitcases n became more bare. She’s excited n who kin blame hur. She’s gearin up tae go tae France as a graduate, movin in hur own direction, n wid make French mates n learn tae talk n think in their language. Wit wid Azzy boy dae oot there? Learn as well and fit in? Make new pals n become Johnny fuckin Onion Ring? Yi wrong a person tae tag along in their dream, cos yi don’t belong there. Ultimately, yi wid waste it, change it in unforeseen ways n alter wit it could huv been. Withoot us, she kin travel n dream uninhibited. A owe hur that much cos sometimes if yi really love somebody, the best thing tae dae is tae let them git on without yi.
Monica’s leavin tonight n A pick hur up tae take hur tae the airport. She holds ma hand a wee bit tighter on the gear stick n smokes quietly wae purpose. The trance songs flowin fae the speakers sound sadder in acknowledgement. A huvnae rehearsed this. She seems quietly confident that we wid find a way and that maybe A wid join hur oot there, when the time is right. A play ma part in this, cos A don’t want hur departure tae be a sad wan. A suspect it isnae tae be. This is hur moment n everythin she deserves fur hur hard work. A know if we did go somewhere neutral the-gither then it could work but, as always, time is against us.
We’re passin the Riddrie junction on the M8 at the bend, passin Parkhead n the Cathedral junctions on the way through the city. The lights ae Glasgow ir even a welcome change tae home. At least in the city, yi feel like yir somewhere recognisable. Lanarkshire hus nae real landmarks or anyhin significant tae separate these eld industrial towns, Airdrie fae Coatbridge, Bellshill fae Motherwell or Wishaw fae Larkhall. They ir, wan n aw, council scheme after council scheme ae the same hooses n run-down high streets. Kelvingrove n the University’s spires lit in the dark make yi feel like yir somewhere else, a foreign city maybe. Over the Kingston Bridge yi kin see the Science Centre n doon the Clyde tae Partick n the eld Bilsland Bakery buildin still standin on the bank. Govan n Braehead pass by n we’re nearly there, takin the slip road tae the airport. Then we’re in the drop-off car park sittin quiet, trapped in the amber ae the moment.
‘So …’ she says, glancin over tae me, aw sad. ‘I’m missing you already, honestly. Just so hard to say goodbye.’
This is it, the last few moments ae us.
‘It’s no easy, naw, but you’ve earned the right tae move on. It’s amazin wit you’ve done.’
‘Just do your own thing, Azzy. A know you always do, but it’s more important now. You need to be your own man. You’re different from the rest, you always were.’
‘Don’t worry aboot me. A’ll dae just fine.’
‘Kiss me then.’
A dae, a long, sweet n sad wan n A kin feel wee tears between our faces, comin fae Monica’s green eyes. She lets oot a wee laugh before she goes n hangs ontae ma hand as she leaves. She’s aff n A’m pullin away, heart in ma mouth n a wee tear ae ma ain in ma eye but she’ll never see it. Azzy Williams doesnae greet, fuck sake. A watch hur walk tae the terminal wae hur bags headed fur hur new life. A turn the stereo up, ‘The Voice Inside (Jonas Stenberg Remix)’ plays oot it. The tune breaks n A’m flyin back along the M8, through the coolin twilight towards death.
PART VIII
Reformed
Everybody can change.
We’ve all got things to add … if he’s been in that hole and dragged people out and he k
nows how to get out, he can do that …
You just need to give people a chance.
Give them a chance and listen to what’s there …
We can make it better.
We can make it much better …
John Carnochan, formerly Strathclyde Police and co-founder of the Violence Reduction Unit, discussing Paul Brannigan during a TEDx talk, University of the West of Scotland
Postcode Warriors
The phone calls started yesterday. Unknown numbers ringin me night n day. Every time A answer there’s a squad ae Toi wans shoutin torrents ae abuse doon the phone. A gee them dog’s abuse back,Wit yi withholdin yir numbers fur, ya fuckin pussies? It’s startin tae piss me aff, constant fuckin buzzin in ma pocket. A’m patchin it n tryin tae furget aboot it. The closer we get tae the weekend the more it’s happnin. It’s Friday the morra. If suhin is gonnae happen, it’s usually a Friday night. Even the night, yi kin feel the eld tension buildin, that static charge that Friday always attracts. It’s still in us n it lies in wait fur me tae be hexed again by its spell, bringin aw the curses n bad juju ae the past back tae life. It is a powerful demon, awaitin only reincarnation.
Danny toots outside n A jump oot n intae his motor. We head doon tae the off-licence in the main street where yi kin git aw sorts ae mad cargo. Danny picks up on ma reluctance tae come tae his party the morra. A didnae feel like socialisin much, especially no wae the likes ae Kenzie n co. He’s invited them aw, wan last bash ae the summer wae aw the troops. Friday night, just like eld times. A’m under nae illusions aboot that but A think Danny just wants us aw the-gither before we split up again. We’re aw pulled our separate ways tae our distinct lives n fates. Part ae me wants tae rekindle the Young Team n dae it aw over again, maybe different this time, as if that’s a possibility. There wis a simplicity tae that eld madness. A strange sanity between the brotherhood ae these young postcode warriors, ma brethren in the YT.
We’re walkin oot the shop heavy-laden wae cargo. Between us we’ve git two slab ae beer, a bottle ae vodka, a few poof juices fur the lassies n a bottle ae Aftershock plus four bottles ae Tonic. Plenty tae wipe oot a party anyway. We’re nearly at the motor when A hear somecunt shoutin. Danny’s turnin tae see who it is. There’s nae squad. Just Si O’Connor marchin doon the street towards us. The cunt’s swingin his arms aboot n swaggerin. He must huv a good few pints in him, cos usually he’s a total fuckin mouse without Matty beside him. ‘Awww, here we go! Wit you wantin, ya fuckin plamf?’ Danny shouts up the street.
The cunt’s swayin aboot, shoutin random pish up at us. ‘Yees think yees ir fuckin maaad? YOUNG FUCKIN TOI!’
‘Shut it, ya dafty, or A’ll turn that swagger intae a stagger,’ Danny says, laughin.
‘WHO YEES TALKIN TAE? TOI BOIZ FUCKIN RUNNIN IT!’
‘Fuck sake, sir. Yi no a bit eld tae be jumpin aboot shoutin that?’ A ask.
‘Yooz two ir fuckin gettin it, wait n see the morra. Yees huvin a wee party? Wait n see wit yees wull fuckin get.’
‘Si, mind you’ve no git yir big brother there tae save yi, son! Noo piss aff.’
‘Fuckin shut it, Danny Stevenson, phffft. Who the fuck ir yi?’
Danny is just shakin his heed, laughin. It’s pathetic. It strikes me when A think aboot Monica wae a degree n away teachin in a foreign country, or Big Kenzie or even Div, movin on n startin a family. ‘Mate, yir no a wee boy anymore. Dae yi no think it’s time tae gee aw this a by?’ He looks at us two as if we’re daft.
‘S’awright fur you, Azzy Williams. Look at ma fuckin face.’ Si runs his finger doon the faded scar where Danny slashed him aw they year ago. ‘It’s never fuckin finished fur me.’
‘You wur unlucky, mate, but yi gonnae bounce aboot when yir thirty shoutin Young fuckin Toi?’
‘Aye fuck.’
‘Who yi tryin tae kid?’
‘Don’t you fuckin call me kid.’
Danny sits his cargo doon next tae a wheelie bin sittin on the street. A’m shakin ma heed n tryin tae pull him back. ‘Naw, Azzy, if the cunt fuckin wants his go, he’ll git it. Yi want smashed again dafty?’
‘Aye fuckin mon then!’
‘Yir aboot tae git leathered fur nuhin, Si. Fuckin piss aff, mate. Nane ae us ir tryin tae start wae yi, we’re doon gittin a wee cargo oot the shop n we’re gawn hame. Wit yi fuckin tryin tae start fur?’
‘A’m here the noo. A don’t need anycunt else.’
Danny’s aboot tae go fur him. A kin see him rollin his shoulders n focusin on Si’s nose. ‘Mon, Danny. Fuckin leave him.’
‘Naw, Azzy. Then he’ll be gawn aboot tellin cunts we shat it. Fuckin sit that drink doon n we’ll gee him a fuckin dooin.’
The argument hus lost aw meanin tae me in this moment. Within hours ae ma return A wis awready back tae fightin wae cunts n watchin ma back. The rage buildin within me is aimed at Danny n his stupidity. ‘A DON’T GEE A FUCK WIT HE TELLS CUNTS. Now fuckin move, mate, before A go right aff ma dial.’ Si looks surprised. He hus nae concept ae stoppin fightin wae us. Suhin within me hus changed n A feel heartfelt sorrow that we put that fuckin mark on his face n doomed him forever tae think like this. A’m no gonnae lift ma hand tae the cunt again.
‘Calm doon, Azzy boy, fuck sake. Mon then, fuck him.’
‘A’m gonnae tell fuckin everycunt yooz two girls shat it fae the bold Si O’Connor.’
A sit ma drink doon n walk up tae Si, his confidence ae a second ago retreatin wae every step towards him. He’s no said a thing n he’s no sprung intae attack mode. He’s a miserable, pathetic drunk tryin tae fight in the street.
‘Tell them wit yi fuckin like.’
Si is still shoutin the odds as we walk away but his arguments huv lost conviction n he bumbles intae the chippy. Danny’s lookin at me strangely, like he doesnae quite understand. A know he isnae as far doon the path as me yit. His real troubles only just ended, in the grand scheme ae things. He didnae huv that silver thread yit, the suhin tae lose that is the start ae aw things.
‘Wit the fuck did yi no just smash him fur?’
‘Mate, you better rethink yir fuckin attitude if yi expect tae git intae Oz.’
‘If somecunt starts then A’m no gonnae back doon.’
‘Mate, he’s a fuckin liberty. Who cares wit cunts think man, honestly. They’re fuckin deadbeats, Danny. Gawn naewhere. You git caught n hut wae a charge before yi go n that’s it fucked.’
‘Listen tae Mr fuckin Sensible!’ he says n winks at me.
A’m home n lyin in ma bed, starin at ma eld posters n chewin over aw the shite ae the last few weeks. The drama wid never end here. A’m driftin aff, wae dreams startin tae flicker intae the room. Ma phone buzzes tae life n wakes us up. ‘Aye?’
‘Azzy? It’s Tam, fuck. Did A wake yi?’
‘Naw, man. Wit’s happnin?’
‘A’m doon at the hospital.’
‘Aye, fuck sake, everyhin awright? Michelle?’
‘Aye she’s good, son. Wee Scarlett is anaw.’
‘Aw no way, mate! Congrats!’
‘A know, kid. It’s fuckin mad.’
‘So a wee lassie then?’
‘Aye, mate. She wis right aw along!’
‘Fuck. A’ll git a quick wash n head doon tae see yees.’
‘Sound, wee buddy. Ma maw n that’s been doon fur a few hours. She’s gittin kept in the night n maybe the morra, then we should be hame. But come doon n see us.’
A’m floatin through the foyer ae Wishaw General, lookin fur the maternity ward. A grabbed a bunch ae flowers n a card which A scribbled on wae a biro in the motor, courtesy ae Coatbridge Asda. Big Kenzie is the first wan ae ma guy mates tae huv a wean. Loads ae the lassies A knew already did, probably more than half ae the girls A went tae primary wae. It’s true, young wans aboot here wur poppin them oot. Big Kenzie n Michelle ir a bit elder, more stable n huv a home n a credible relationship. They’re ready fur a new addition. A cannae imagine a wee Azzy runnin aboot. No yit anyways. It’s a mad thought.
A r
each the ward n ask fur Baby McKenzie. The wee nurse tells me that it’s just ‘mum and dad’ wae the baby n starts marchin doon the corridor wae me trailin after. It’s mad tae hear, mad tae think that Big Kenzie is somebody’s fuckin da. Ma phone starts buzzin n she tells me tae turn it aff. A mutter sorry n huv a quick look. Private Caller. Those fuckin fannies ir still phonin me. A turn it on vibrate n stick it back intae ma jeans pocket. The wee nurse points me doon another identical corridor towards the room. A kin make oot Michelle standin at the bottom. She’s lookin through the glass wae a wee plastic coffee cup in hur hand. ‘Wit you dain oot ae bed?’ She turns, laughin, wae a big smile on hur face.
‘Hi, Alan son. Awk A’m fine honestly. It wis a really easy labour, only five hours. We came in really early yesterday mornin. Ma waters broke in the house n Tam drove me straight doon in the work van.’ The McKenzie pumpkin tae the ball – a Tough Construction Transit van.
‘That’s brilliant. How yi doing?’
‘Wee bit exhausted n sore but apart fae that … A’m good.’
‘How come yir oot here?’
She holds up hur wee coffee cup. ‘No a good patient, son, but they wanted tae keep me in a day. They for me?’ Michelle says, noddin at the flowers n card.
‘Aye!’ A say, laughin, n hand them over.
‘You’re a wee sweetheart! Thanks, Alan.’
‘Where’s Tam n the wee yin?’
Michelle stands oot the way ae the glass panel on the door. A walk up n look through. Tam is asleep on the chair wae the wee one next tae him in a cot. Big Kenzie’s part in our story is over noo. A feel emotional lookin at them. It’s a beautiful thing. At the end, yi huv new beginnings, n that is truly the circle ae life.
‘Two ae them are oot cold.’
‘So, Scarlett McKenzie after aw?’
‘Aye,’ Michelle says wae a wee smile.
‘A’m over the moon fur yees! Honestly, man.’
‘Will A go n wake Tam?’
‘Naw, just leave them. A’ll come see yees when yir back up the road n settled.’
The Young Team Page 28